Harry Potter was happy.

If, you know, you called being happy being locked up in your room every single day for no apparent reason, having food shoved through a dog door happy. If you call hating yourself for letting the person who betrayed your parents get away happy, then yeah, he's ecstatic.

But, those are not the reasons he was happy. It was because he knew he had someone out there that truly loved him as a son, not as the bloody "Boy-Who-Lived". His godfather, Sirius Black, wanted Harry to live with him, to get him out of the bloody Dursleys and have a read childhood.

Does it help if I say that Sirius Black is an escaped convict who got out of a high security prison because he supposedly killed thirteen people?

Well, that's a let down.

Now, Harry's sad. Stupid wizarding world thinking that his godfather was guilty. Stupid Peter Pettigrew for betraying his parents to Voldemort and framing Sirius for his own, counting twelve Muggles, death. And curse himself, for letting the rat-bastard for escaping.

Well, enough self-pity, nobody likes an emo kid.

Seeing the time, he decided to go to sleep. He was exhausted after doing absolutely nothing all day.

BOOM!

"What the hell?" Harry said, feeling the ground shake under his feet.

"Muahahahaha…. Ha!!" was the evil laughter coming from downstairs. Harry went to check out the evil laughter.

Everything was in shambles. (AN: Hehe… shambles xD) Smoke was everywhere and, from what he could see, some of the furniture in the family room had blown up. Harry walked cautiously over to the couch, which wasn't a couch anymore, and looked around.

"Potter!" Wait… that voice was familiar. "Where are you?"

"Dammit!" Harry swore out loud. It wasn't like he wanted some crazy lunatic finding out where he was.

He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped around. There, in front of him, was a white-haired man, looking to be about thirty-something. His eyes were a cold and lusting for blood.

"Found you," he, who was Lucius Malfoy, said. He pointed his wand at Harry, and said something.

BOOMx2!

A very bright light surrounded Harry, completely destroying the house. Harry started to feel drained… and darkness soon forced him from consciousness.

"Kenshin, keep your elbows up!" Kenshin Himura's master ordered.

A white light blinded them for a second, a hard thump came afterwards. The light dimmed considerably, showing a boy, about fourteen years old, with messy black hair, and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

The mastered swordsman took action straight away.

"Kenshin, help me get him into the house," he ordered the red-headed boy.

"Will he be alright, master?" Kenshin asked.

Hiko Seijuro, the master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Style of swordsmanship examined the unconscious boy. "He's just knocked out. He'll be fine."

They took him into the house and laid him onto a futon.

A couple of hours later, Kenshin (who was watching over the boy) heard a groan. He saw him slowly opening his eyes, revealing a startling emerald green.

"Master, he's awake," Kenshin called.

The boy looked confused. His eyes explored the room he was lying in, seeing pretty much nothing. He had two thoughts in his mind, "Where am I" and "How did I get out of my room when it was locked from the outside?" He asked the first thought to Kenshin.

"I don't understand you," Kenshin said, looking completely confused.

Quite frankly, the boy didn't understand Kenshin either.

Hiko came into the room and started talking something that the boy actually understood (AN: It's my story, so Hiko knows English). "You are in Japan, Where did you come from?"

"England," the boy said slowly.

"How did you get from England to Japan?" Hiko asked.

"I have no idea."

"What's your name?"

"Uh, Harry Potter."

Hiko thought for a second. "Harry is not a swordsman name. From now on, you will be Hatsuharu. You will also take the name of Kenshin, Himura."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I will be teaching you the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu," Hiko said. "You will learn how to fight for the innocent people who cannot protect themselves."

"Uh, okay," Harry agreed, knowing not to get on this man's bad side. "What's your name, anyways?"

"Hiko Seijuro," Hiko replayed. "But, you will call me Master.

"I will also teach you Japanese, you will need it in the future, if you are staying any longer."

So, Harry, or Hatsuharu, started to learn Japanese and the sword technique with Kenshin, who Hatsuharu called Shinta, while in turn Kenshin called Harry Haru-chan or Hatsu-kun. The first one always pissed Harry off.